


Blue

by piecasportsanimetrash



Series: the fine art of everything at all [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Relationship, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Fine Arts students AU, Humor, M/M, Realistic, Self Confidence Issues, Weird Plot, ace!Haru, kind of, well i hope i was funny anyway lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecasportsanimetrash/pseuds/piecasportsanimetrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>awkward encounters happen out of the blue</p><p>in which haru is an art student and makoto is a lit student</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I am bad with metaphors and this story is kinda shit but I tried and here you go

Haruka never really knew what having a crush felt like. Girls in his class talked about it a lot, because they all seem to be so obsessed with the (pretty slight) possibly of Makoto Tachibana falling for one of them. He had never properly met Makoto Tachibana before, but according to the people who had, he was apparently _that hot guy from the Literature Department_ everyone was talking about since the beginning of the semester.

And it was not like he gave much care to other people since he started attending this university about a year and a half ago. Way before his first semester started he already decided that he wasn't here to make friends - not that he needed any more, anyway. He was here to draw, and to escape from the uneventful town where no one was ever home, and for nothing else.

When he was about to grab his stuff and the empty 14 x 14 canvas from the other side of the workshop room, Naomi Sakamoto came running in shrieking.

“He said yes!” she exclaimed, with a wide grin on her face.

“Who?”

“Makoto Tachibana! He said yes!”

“Oh my god, Naomi, how did you get him to say yes?”

“I just asked him and - he said he would get off work early - ” The girls huddled into a crowd and started discussing frantically what they should wear to the party.

Maeda, who sat next to Haruka and he rarely talked to, groaned and said, “Not that guy again.”

Haruka threw him a questioning look, and Maeda explained, “You know, Tachibana, good-looking, body’s like a Greek god, smiles at literally everything that breathes in his way.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t mind him, Nanase,”Araki chipped in. “Maeda’s just sulking because he thinks Tachibana is the reason he still hasn’t gotten any chicks this semester.”

“Hey!”

“Speaking of the party - ” Araki continued, and Haruka already knew what he was going to ask.

“No,” he stated, shutting his paint brush case and dumping it into his bag. His classmates’ faces fell immediately.

“Come on, just this one time will do, please?” Maeda joined in the daily five-minute requesting session of them inviting him into another party. Haruka ignored them and walked out of the room, sighing in annoyance. Ever since everyone had passed the age of 15 all they think about is dating, their girlfriends, love interests, and all that kind of stuff. But Haruka wasn’t interested, ever. In fact, he was not sure if he would in near future. He went once, didn’t start any conversations, got slightly drunk and a headache, took the bus home before ten, and decided that it was too much trouble for him. He didn’t like crowded places, for one, and he hated to see when people were swooning all over each other, saying stupid pickup lines to flirt and impress and no one was allowed to have an empty glass on the table.

The room on the left wing hallway of the first floor was always empty. While everyone chatted endlessly about non-art related topics in lecture rooms, he often skipped class and went here. He placed the canvas on the dusty sketching easel he found in a storage room and took out his pencils.

The window wasn’t closed and he could hear the basketball club practicing outside of the sports hall. They always occupied the area just outside the cafeteria, where cars rarely drove by and a decent hoop was attached to a side of the brick wall. The sounds of slam-dunking and the horrid screeching noises shoes made on the ground were no distractions to Haruka when he was drawing.

He had been doing this for the past couple of weeks, finding quiet places that wasn’t the library and sat down to do his work for his final portfolio. He wasn’t about to take chances to get turned down by the art studio he always wanted to work in, so his portfolio must be as perfect as it could be.

“Nice pass, Tachibana!”

Some boys hollered for him to pass the ball back, and Haruka couldn’t help but to look out of the window.

_Good-looking, body’s like a Greek god, smiles at literally everything that breathes in his way._

It was not like he had never seen Makoto Tachibana before. Sometimes he saw him in the hallways, surrounded by a crowd of people, usually his basketball teammates or other friend. A couple of occasions he spotted him across the courtyard of the Fine Art Department, being given a box of chocolate and a love letter and an unrequited love confession. Sometimes he saw him jogging late at night beside the pond next to their dorms, like he was trying to run away from the crowd once and for all. There was no wonder why some girls were absolutely crazy about him. Even if he was standing at the edge of first floor looking down, Makoto Tachibana’s smile was still radiant, like the sun, or some other things that are commonly used to describe a smile in cheesy rom-coms or young adult novels. 

And then Haruka was reminded that out of everything that he had drawn over the past 20 years of his life, he had never drawn someone playing basketball, and it seemed like the only applicable material he had in front of him right now, so _why not_.

He moved the easel by the window and drew. He drew the stretching hands at motion while dunking. He drew the shadows on the ground lit by the last shade of orange and red before dusk. He drew Makoto Tachibana’s messy hair, red sneakers, and everything in between. By the time he was finished, the basketball team had already gathered their things and left.

Everything fell back into silence when Haruka added final touches to his work, and was strangely agitated by the fact that everything was left blank. The drawing wasn’t bad but it was merely a sketch without colors. But maybe he would color it, one day, just to finish the portrait.

He just had to see the colors of Makoto Tachibana for himself. Preferably close-up.

 

***

 

Rin was waiting for him at the cafeteria with a nearly-emptied can of coke in his hand, apparently had been sitting there for quite a while. Haruka sat down in front of him and put his bag on the chair next to him.

“Where’s your boyfriend,” was the first thing he inquired after settling down by the table.

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, Nanase,” Rin grunted. “And hello to you, too.”

“You sure look pissed about it.”

“Just go get your food; I’m not in the mood for this today.”

It was true, and Haruka could tell that Rin was definitely in an extra bad mood today. Probably because of the upcoming performance of the drama department which was the first public show in this semester, and counted 70% towards their final grade. Since Rin was selected as the leading actor and was also in charge of half of the directing work, he was already at the edge of losing his chill. And Haruka always had a soft spot for an almost-in-tears-because-of-stress Rin, so he left the table with extra money to buy his friend another can of coke.

“Sorry,” Haruka said when his elbow bumped into someone’s shoulder at the vending machine. It was a girl. She looked at him straight in the eyes, and ran away without a word, probably with a _typical_ blush on her face. Haruka inserted the coins and grabbed the coke out of the machine and walked back to their table with his lunch.

“Smooth,” Rin commented when Haruka handed him the can.

‘What.”

“That girl,” Rin said, nodding at the general direction of the girl who sat at the other end of the cafeteria. “Mayuko Noshima.”

“Who,” Haruka asked, already bored by the topic.

“She likes you,” Rin replied. “She’s in my class, and do you remember that one time when the art students came in to help us with the props? And then you helped her to carry all those cardboards and shit to the great hall? She won’t shut up about you ever since.”

Haruka didn’t even bother to shrug. This was why he found some people annoying. Like, it was only one time. In addition to that, helping people who were about to collapse from the weight of thirty-two cardboards of various sizes was an act out of kindness and care for another fellow human being, not affection, not love, not anything. She, and some girls in his class who met Makoto Tachibana once or twice and whose dresses were complimented out of politeness, the boys who sat next to him who were teased by some chicks from the other class, all exaggerated what had happened in reality in their minds because of the _longing of romance_.

“By they way, just letting you know that I’m going to the party,” Rin added. “You’ve heard about it, right?”

“Yeah, and I’m not going,” Haruka told him straight away.

“Why? It’s actually pretty fun, to be honest. You get to drink like there’s no tomorrow for starters.”

“You think it’s fun only because your boyfriend will be there.”

“Shut up about him. So are you going or not?”

“I already said I wasn’t going.”

Rin was a person who never usually gave up only except when it came to finishing up his semester report which resulted in him crying in the lecture room because his professor refused to delay the deadline. He kept on nagging, “Tell you what, Mayuko Noshima is going, too.”

“What’s that got to do with me,” Haruka said.

“Come on, I’ve known you for, like, ten years? And you never, ever, ever show interest in _anyone_. I’m starting to worry.”

Haruka tried to glare back at him, but he couldn’t deny that what Rin said was, in fact, as true as it could be. He took a bite of the sandwich, it was dry and tasteless; he should had made lunch for himself today.

“Well, say something,” Rin said.

“I don’t think a single party is going to change that,” Haruka stated blandly.

“You never know. Maybe one day, you’ll meet someone sitting across the bar counter, and out of the blue everything just goes ‘ _BOOM!_ ’ - ”

“Um, hey, Rin?”

Both of them turned around to the source of a third voice. And Haruka’s heart skipped a bit as if he had been caught red handed in the middle of drawing something deemed to be somewhat indecent.

“Hey, Makoto,” Rin’s cheeky smile reappeared after a long day of hard work at the sight of Makoto Tachibana. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to give these back to you,” Makoto Tachibana handed Rin a huge ring binders with at least two hundred pages attached to it. “I’ve modified them, but let me know if you want to change anything else.”

“Thanks, I knew I could count on you,” Rin sighed in relief, flipping through the pages. “I promise I will buy you dinner next time.”

“It’s no problem,” Makoto Tachibana retuned a smile to Rin, and nodded apologetically at Haruka, “I hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

Still in shock, Haruka could only nod back dumbly.

“I’ll catch you later, then,” Rin waved at Makoto Tachibana casually when he turned to leave.

Haruka put down his sandwich. The unfamiliar mixture of guilt and embarrassment lingered in his stomach and he completely lost his appetite. The drawing was placed just two feet away from its uninformed model, and that feeling was just too weird to handle.

“Haru?” Rin said. “Haru, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Haruka cleared his throat, wiping crumbs off his fingers with a paper towel.

“You looked like you were completely zoned out there,” Rin commented, his expression gradually turning from bemusement to realization in a drastic moment as if he was still on the stage acting as Hamlet during his murder scene. “Oh my god, don’t tell me, Haru. Don’t. I can’t deal with any more drama today.”

“What.”

“Don’t tell me you fancy him,” Rin’s grin got wider and wider.

“I don’t even know him - ”

“MAKOTO!”

Before Haruka could do anything to stop his friend, Rin already stood up on his chair and yelled across the cafeteria. Makoto Tachibana, who was held back by several members of the baseball club and was just about to walk out of the door, halted his footsteps abruptly. Everyone in the room turned to stare at Rin and Haruka.

‘Rin, what the fuck.” Haruka wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out at that moment when Makoto returned to their table in confusion.

“I am doing you a huge fucking favor here, so you better shut up and look smart, okay?” Rin whispered.

“I am not - ”

“Is there anything wrong, Rin?” Makoto was already standing right next to them and Haruka was just about to die of sheer embarrassment. Great timing.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that I feel rude not introducing you to my _friend_ here,” Rin said, and Haruka swore he had never seen such a deliriously joyful expression displayed on his face, clearly enjoying every moment of Haruka’s internal suffering. “This is Haruka Nanase, he is an Art and Design major.”

“Um, hi,” Haruka stammered, unsure whether to shake Makoto Tachibana’s hand or escape to the emergency exit to an upcoming awkward conversation.

“Hi,” Makoto Tachibana smiled at him brightly. “I’m Makoto Tachibana, I do language and literature.”

“Yeah, I know.” _WHY THE HELL DID I SAY THAT._

If Haruka looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole, Makoto Tachibana looked like he wanted to jump out of the window right here right now. Because as capable of handling social relationships as he was, he had no idea how to respond to a statement that clearly entailed ‘ _I don’t give a shit about you_ ’.

“So, uh, you going to the party on Wednesday, Makoto?” Rin said, desperately trying to keep the conversation going while Haruka’s face started to burn like fire in hell. “Because Haru here is going. You’re pretty excited about it, huh? Haru?”

“Rin,” Haruka said quietly through gritted teeth. “Whatever you’re doing, you have to stop, right now.”

“A couple of girls from the art class invited me, and I kind of had to say yes,” Makoto Tachibana replied. “Are you guys coming, too?”

“I’m going for the alcohol,” Rin said, and Haruka wanted to call him a liar because there was of course more to the reason but Rin was of course too stubborn to admit it. “But Haru’s been trying to pick up some - ouch!” He gasped when Haruka kicked him hard under the table.

“Sorry,” Haruka said, but not to Rin, who was cursing under his breath and massaging his aching shin. Makoto Tachibana laughed a bit.

“You two are funny,” he said, grinning, and it sounded like a genuine compliment coming out from a person like him. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, then.”

“So?” Rin recovered from pain after Makoto Tachibana left their table again, and looked at Haruka expectingly.

“Matsuoka.”

“What?”

“Fuck you.”

Haruka stood up, grabbed everything he placed on the chair, and walked away.

“Haruka Nanase, get your ass back over here!” he heard Rin screaming behind him.

 

***

 

Rin: u gotta stOP ignoring my texts

Rin: I said i was sorry!!!!

Rin: U hav to at least admit it’s kind of funny

Rin: Ok ok im sorry don't ignore me i need someone to go with me PLS

 

Haruka sighed and checked his buzzing phone. Rin had been bombing him with random apologizes for embarrassing him in front of three hundred people in the cafeteria and throwing in insults once in a while, and then continuing to beg him to go to the party. Apparently, Rin’s totally-not-a-crush-crush from another university was attending, and Rin was not fully mentally prepared for it.

 

Rin: I did NOT know he was coming???!!!!!!!!!

Rin: for once in your life u gotta help me out

Me: admit your gay little crush on him and ill go

Rin: SHUT YOUR FACE I DONT NEED YOUR HELP ANYWAY

Rin: I’ll buy you two sets of acrylic paint and a new brush and ten cans of mackerel so please go with me

Me: I want fresh mackerel

Rin: you people r seriously draining my wage

 

By ‘you people’, Rin mainly meant Haruka and Nagisa Hazuki, an energetic actor but extremely slackly with rehearsals. Rin had to use food to buy him into practice sessions or he wouldn’t even bother to show up. Haruka sometimes did pity his friend’s double role as the director and the leading actor of the same stage play, because it was draining not only his money but his general saneness.

On Wednesday morning Haruka saw Makoto Tachibana walking across the second floor hallway with one of the guys in the basketball team whose name was unknown to Haruka but he was one of the most infamously flirtatious people in the local university community (his name may or may not be Kisumi Shinigo - Haruka wasn’t good at remembering names). He had his arm around Makoto Tachibana’s shoulder, laughing about something when Haruka walked passed them. Makoto Tachibana recognized him and gave him a smile, and Haruka, again, only nodded at him.

By the time Haruka got the classroom he was already positive that one quarters of the Fine Art Department was going to the party. Apparently the host had invited too many people and even Fine Art students from other faculties would be attending. What started out to be a Literature-Art department party now became a full-on inter-university event, which added one more reason to Haruka’s list of not going. But Rin had already gave him the new brush he had promised and it was too late to bail unless he wanted to have his hands chopped off by his enraged friend.

The professor conveniently took a day off so the morning lecture was canceled, but most of them came in anyway to finish up their painting project and report. Most of the girls weren’t paying attention to their paint brushes and canvases, and instead was invested in painting their faces with red lipsticks and glittery eyeliner. The whole dress to impress thing never made much sense to Haruka; if you wanted to impress people, wouldn’t it be easier without having to excuse yourself to fix your melting makeup every ten minutes? But after all, he thought, reality was made up of things you thought you could see, not the things that were actually real.

He took the train with Maeda and Araki to the center of Tokyo, already regretting his promise with Rin. Mackerel was definitely a nice compensation, but he should had asked for more.

It wasn't the first party he had been to, but every time when he went to one he wished it was the last. Loud pop music could already be heard from the hallways, leading to the private room the department had rented in the local restaurant, probably used up their club fundings for it. A couple were all over each other at the entrance, Haruka looked away when they pushed the door open. Maeda and Araki, recognizing their friends, immediately ran to them and ditched Haruka. But he did not mind; it wasn’t like he was particularly keen on socializing or anything.

He walked over to the bar but did not order anything, instead he just stood there, leaning over on the counter and watched. The flashing lights and unambivalent clothing did not match, the colors were mixing together and he already felt drunk just by looking at all those people walking around, lights shining across the crown of their heads.

Makoto Tachibana stood out in the crowd as always - no matter intentionally or not - he always ended up in the central of everyone’s attention. Haruka saw him smiling and then gently refusing every glass of drink that was poured for him, rejecting girls who asked him to dance, or take their hands. It was rather odd because even when he was ringed by a huge group of people, he stood alone, seemingly unable to blend in. Or maybe it was just the extra bright lighting playing tricks on Haruka’s eyes.

“Finally found you,” Haruka jolted a bit, finding Rin walking towards him with two glasses. He came over to him and stuffed one in his hands, and Haruka took a drink reflexively.

“How’d it go.”

“Go what?” Rin said.

“The guys from that other university.”

“They didn’t come.”

“Why.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Rin snapped. “I need another drink.”

Rin waved at the bartender and grabbed another glass of punch from the tray, downing all of it while Haruka stared at him in bewilderment.

“What happened,” he asked Rin.

“Nothing happened,” Rin grunted.

“Something happened.”

“Okay, let me put it in this way. Once upon a time, Rin Matsuoka was stood up, and he was really pissed about it.”

“So basically your boyfriend didn't show up and you’re sad,” Haruka agilely summed it up, and Rin gave him a grimace.

The next song was even louder than the previous ones, it was a defeanening rock-and-roll one. Rin tried to yell over all the noise and tell Haruka what happened, but Haruka wasn’t listening to any of those anymore. Over Rin’s shoulders he saw Makoto Tachibana finally budging and had both of his arms dragged into the dancing crowd by one of the girls. They were standing so close, and under the artificial mist and cigarette smoke and flaring spotlights it was almost impossible to ignore the sight. Haruka took another shot.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rin hollered at him, the rock-and-roll still blasting at full volume while Haruka frowned in discomfort.

“Nanase-kun, can I talk to you for a second?” _Great, a new fucking person who is trying to make interaction with me._

Mayuko Noshima, out of nowhere, stood in front of Haruka, distracting his gaze from Makoto Tachibana. She did not stutter, nor did she blush this time, but she seemed drunk and she had half a shot of whiskey left in her glass. Haruka looked around, Rin stood behind Mayuko Noshima but showed no intention of helping. The guys surrounding them stared in amusement, some snickered when Haruka moved along the bar table uneasily.

“I guess,” he finally answered, half-shrugging.

“I like you,” the direct statement aimed at Haruka hit him like a baseball. “I want to go out with you.”

Haruka stared her down, guessing that if she wasn’t so drunk she would never have the courage to just walk up to a guy she hardly knew and just ask him out like that. His first instinct was to reject her, as directly as possible, because people who boozed too much in the past ten minutes never made rational decisions; he learned that the hard way from Rin.

_Quick, Nanase, think of an excuse to reject her that is neither stupid nor absurd. I don’t like you. I don’t even know you. I have a girlfriend. I don’t like girls. I am not straight. Oh and I am actually a wanted serial-killer psychopath so you won’t wanna date me._

“Well?” she said pressingly, Haruka gulped, remembering that his grandmother once told him that, “ _honesty is a virtue_ ”. Truth was it, then.

“I don’t like you,” was what came out of his mouth at last.

Mayuko Noshima stared at him, and after a few seconds she bursted into tears. She threw the remains of her drink into Haruka’s lap and ran away crying. In the meantime Rin bursted into laughter, sounding like all of his melancholy had disappeared just because of the splash of whiskey on Haruka’s shirt which was also dripping down his pants.

“That’s low,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes, still laughing really hard. “That’s so low, I can’t believe it - oh my god.”

“No,” Haruka started, realizing what he said were the wrong words. “I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t - ”

“ _Nanase!_ ”

Another guy - Haruka couldn’t really remember his name, Seto or Saito or something, he was in the basketball team - went up to him and without hesitation grabbed his collar with a strength that could almost lift him up from the ground. It all happened in a flash between party music and blinding lights, and Haruka could hardly dodge the sudden attack.

“Hey, hey, whoa,” Rin stepped in and tried to break lose of the offender’s hand, but he wouldn’t budge at all.

“What the fuck did you say to Noshima?” Seto (or Saito, whatever) hollered at him, gripping his shirt even tighter.

“I didn’t mean it,” Haruka tried to explain over the noise. “I wasn’t trying to insult her or anything.”

“How could you say things like that?” Seto shouted, too angry to hear any of Haruka’s words.

“Calm down!” Rin tried to grab his arm.

“Stay out of this, Matsuoka!” Seto turned and pushed Rin away, causing him to lose balance and fall over the flat table behind him. More people gathered around, expecting to witness the first fistfight in the party.

“Let me go,” Haruka said, feeling Seto’s grip growing stronger every second and he was having trouble breathing.

“If you didn’t like her, you could’ve just told her so,” Seto said, his voice shaking. “You made her upset, and you’re gonna pay for it.”

“That’s exactly what I told her,” Haruka said defensively.

“Seto, he’s just a bit too drunk and not good at talking!” Rin shouted, but Seto ignored him.

Haruka closed his eyes when he was expecting a punch to hit him square on his face, but it never did.

“Seto-kun, please calm yourself down.”

Out of every single person who could had gotten him out of trouble, it _had to_ be Makoto Tachibana. He held Seto’s arm mid-air with force, easily winning him by both height and strength. Seto looked like he had something to say, or was about to direct his anger towards Makoto Tachibana. But Makoto Tachibana wasn’t smiling anymore, instead his eyes dimmed and the look on his face was almost _menacing_.

“Let’s go, Nanase-kun,” Makoto Tachibana told him. It was more like a command than a request, so Haruka did as he was told, feeling everyone’s eyes following them when they left the room without another word.

“Rin - ” Haruka turned to see his friend slowly standing up.

“Just go before you start another fight again,” Rin smiled at him assuringly.

Haruka could feel his heart beating extremely fast, recovering from the immense amount of shock from a minute ago. He sped up to keep up with Makoto Tachibana’s fast pace. He didn't say anything until they reached the exit of the restaurant.

“That was so close,” Makoto Tachibana breathed out a sigh of relief once the coast was clear. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“No,” Haruka replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I’m fine.”

“Seto-kun is very hot-headed sometimes,” Makoto Tachibana continued. “But I’m sure you didn’t mean whatever you had said. After all, I don’t think a friend of Rin’s can ever be a bad person.”

Haruka didn’t say anything. He had just slightly too much vodka to drink tonight and he wasn’t going to make the situation more awkward than it already was between him and Makoto Tachibana. They barely knew each other, and Haruka had already managed to commit one failure per meeting they had. If Makoto Tachibana was _that hot guy from the Literature Department_ , Haruka could soon easily win himself a reparation for being _that weird dude who fucked everything up from the Art Department_.

“Speaking of Rin, I hope he’s okay, too,” Makoto Tachibana added again. “That fall looked pretty hard to me.”

“He’ll be fine,” Haruka told him. “His backbone is probably thicker than his skin.”

Makoto Tachibana looked at Haruka in surprise, and started laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Haruka didn’t know how to react because no one had ever picked up on his subtle jokes which he made maybe only five times in his entire life.

“Anyway,” Makoto Tachibana gathered himself and said. “It’s probably best if we don’t stay here. Are you going back to the dorm?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, I can give you a ride if you want to.”

“You have a car?” Haruka asked.

“It’s just my dad’s old car,” Makoto Tachibana explained. “It’s probably older than me but still working fine. So, you wanna come along?”

Now, of course, every parent had taught their children not to get rides from strangers, and Haruka was fully aware of the fact that meeting twice and having a mutual friend barely made them acquaintances, let alone friends. But his head was hurting like a badly stabbed toe and his throat was completely dry, and he couldn’t wait to dive in his bed and enjoy the rest of the night without having to make human interaction. So he finally found himself saying, “Sure.”

 

***

 

To Haruka’s relief, the ride back to their dormitory building wasn’t as awkward as their previous encounter. The radio was on, reporting late night news about an upcoming snowstorm that would possibly hit Tokyo in late December. Makoto Tachibana was clearly an experienced driver as he knew the roads of Tokyo quite well. He took a left turn off the highway to avoid to two-mile long traffic ahead of them.

“Did you have whisky just now?” Makoto Tachibana asked suddenly.

‘No, but Noshima threw hers on me,” Haruka replied. “That’s why I smell weird. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Makoto Tachibana said. “I was just wondering…because you don’t look like the _type_ who drink a lot.”

“Oh, really,” Haruka said, staring at the traffic light ahead of them. “Are _you_ the type, then.”

“I guess not,” Makoto Tachibana replied. “The most I could drink is punch and beer; if you give me anything stronger than those I will pass out in less than a minute.”

“Huh,” Haruka merely hummed, appreciating the fact that his companion was trying to make small talk to modify the strange atmosphere created by saving a stranger from a fight and then driving him home. Makoto looked like he wanted to keep the conversation going, but Haruka’s disinterested face seemed to have put him off a bit.

“Hey, by the way.”

Haruka turned his head a bit unwillingly from the city night scenery outside the window and looked at Makoto Tachibana.

“One of the paintings that is displayed on the third floor…the seaside village painting, it is your work, right?”

“Yes,” Haruka answered, a bit taken aback.

“I lived in a small village before our family moved to Tokyo,” Makoto Tachibana said. “It was a long time ago, but I still remember everything about it. The beach, the countryside roads and the fresh air. Your painting…kind of feels like home. It’s beautiful, I really liked it.”

Ah, yes, the Fine Art academic exchange was always what they resorted to once topics of chatting had run out. In spite of that, Haruka was even more taken aback by such a direct and sincere compliment. “Oh,” he said, thinking fast and trying to recall Makoto Tachibana’s works that had been exhibited or praised by any of the professors. “Uh, thanks. I liked your…commentary, on Soseki Natsume’s novels. Pretty inspiring.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“I’m sorry but I don’t think I have ever seen your creative work,” Haruka said, feeling a bit guilty.

Makoto Tachibana laughed. “I wasn’t expecting a compliment in return, you know; I really do like your work. Besides, I don’t often let people read my writing.”

Just when Haruka’s curiosity as an artist was slightly provoked, the car came to a halt when the lights turned red, a bit abrupt because Makoto Tachibana was mildly distracted. Haruka’s bag slipped off his lap and bumped into the glove box, causing the cover to spring open.

“Shit, that’s - ” Makoto Tachibana exclaimed. It was already too late when he reached over in attempt to shut it. There were at least five - no, six bags of Maltesers and M &Ns, all emptying their contents at once on to Haruka’s lap like a waterfall of chocolate.

Haruka was stunned. Firstly because he had never seen so many chocolate at the same time in his entire life. Secondly because this was one of the best comic relief scenes he had ever experienced.

“Oh, I - ” Makoto Tachibana said, his hands sliding off the steering wheel feebly and turning away. “I’m so, so sorry. I forgot - ”

Haruka then started laughing. It started out to be more like a smirk, but then he couldn’t help himself anymore. He covered his mouth, shaking all over with laughter while chocolate poured over his legs and forming a chocolate puddle around his feet. A few seconds later Makoto Tachibana bursted into laughter with him, even louder.

“You’ve got quite a lot of things poured on you today,” Makoto Tachibana said after calming down a bit, still chuckling. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s not your fault,” Haruka answered, keeping his cool while he pressed his lips together to conceal another laughing fit. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard that his stomach was starting to hurt. “But that’s a shitload of chocolate you’ve got there.”

“I have this really bad habit of snacking,” Makoto Tachibana explained. “Especially when driving. I can finish my whole stash in one trip back home, which is just twenty minutes away from campus.”

“It’s such as waste,” Haruka said, looking at the chocolate mess scattered below them, scooping up the remaining bits that hadn’t fallen on to the floor in his hands and dumping them in the plastic bag for trash. Now he smelt like chocolate with cheap whisky, just like some kind of Valentine's Day gift bundle.

“Is there anything left in the bags?” Makoto Tachibana asked hopefully.

“A bit,” Haruka replied, reaching in the glove box and pulling out the flat branded bags.

“We might as well finish it then.”

They ended up eating up all of the remaining chocolate on the way back, with Haruka holding out the packet in between their seats while they talked about, well, food in general. Mainly Makoto Tachibana telling him that he couldn’t cook at all and almost burnt down the common room kitchen once and could only make rice and slightly burnt toast.

“I eat when I’m using my laptop,” he told Haruka. “Which is really bad because I get crumbs all over my keyboard while trying to type an essay with a single finger.”

“I once spilt an entire mug of coffee on an almost-finished artwork due in the next day,” Haruka said in return. That day was rememberable in a painful and tiring way.

“That’s literally the worst thing that could happen to an artist, isn’t it?” With the help of the excess sugar and caffeine in the chocolate they had eaten in the past ten minutes the atmosphere was a lot easier. Haruka noticed that Makoto Tachibana’s personality was somewhat varied from what he displayed on the outside on a daily basis. The ‘public’ Makoto Tachibana was polite, generous, cheerful. The Makoto Tachibana he was having a conversation with now was everything above plus a dash of sarcasm and cheekiness. It was always funny when you saw the other sides of a person like phases of the moon.

Makoto Tachibana pulled the brakes in front of the dormitory building to drop Haruka off. “I’m going to park the car,” he said. “You can leave without me; you should wash off all the alcohol and chocolate before bed.”

“My trousers are pretty much ruined.”

Makoto Tachibana laughed again. It sounded different in the car, but maybe Haruka was just imaging it.

“Goodnight.”

Just when Haruka turned to walk away, he heard Makoto Tachibana calling out , “Nanase-kun!”

A breeze of wind blew away the fallen leaves on the staircase under the moonlight. If Haruka wasn’t so tired at the moment, he would had grabbed his sketchbook and drew everything he saw from this perspective, along with Makoto Tachibana’s messy hair and trench coat and thick gloves and green eyes looking only at him.

“It was really nice meeting you,” he said.

“You, too,” Haruka replied. “And…thanks for helping me out, you know, at the party.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Makoto Tachibana said, giving him the last smile of the night before turning away. “Goodnight!”

Still smelling like whisky and chocolate and a hint of cigarette smoke from the party, Haruka walked up the stairs leading to the dormitory, wondering if it had been an appropriate occasion to ask for Makoto Tachibana’s phone number, just for the sake of it.

 

***

 

A week had passed since the party. After attempting three times to get rid of the weird smell formed by the mixture of sugar, alcohol and washing powder, he gave up on his jeans and threw them in the trash. 

Haruka definitely did not expect to see Makoto Tachibana hanging around outside the great hall restlessly, holding a brown envelope in his hands with an anxious frown on his face. Rin texted him half an hour ago, saying that he was dying from a twelve hour deprivation of food, and demanded fast-food takeaway. Normally Haruka wouldn’t had moved a muscle to this request, but then decided that since winter came he had been indoors for a little too much. He changed into his sweatshirt and jogged to the nearby parking lot to get Rin his food.

When Haruka went up to Makoto Tachibana, he jumped and cracked a self-conscious smile at him.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted Haruka a bit too enthusiastically. “Are you here to meet Rin?”

“He asked me to bring him food.”

“I see.”

“Why are you standing outside,” Haruka asked.

“They’re in the middle of a scene, and I don’t want to, uh, interrupt or anything,” Makoto Tachibana said, but with a _suspiciously_ sheepish look on his face. “They should be done in a minute.”

“Oh.”

And then their conversation kind of died, but this time it felt much less awkward than before. Haruka glanced over and saw Makoto fidgeting, tangling and then untangling his fingers, shifting his bag on the ground, standing on one leg and then another. The brown envelope was out of sight without him noticing. A few moments later Makoto cracked the door open and looked inside. 

“They’re finished, let’s head in.”

Two seconds inside the room and Makoto Tachibana was already attacked by a person launching a killingly tight hug on him. “Mako-chan!”

“Nagisa, I can’t - breathe - ”

Nagisa Hazuki finally let go of Makoto’s broad shoulders and laughed, almost doing the same to Haruka if it wasn’t his stern expression which read ‘lay your hands off me’.

The great hall was dimly lighted, probably for dramatic effects. The scene was apparently set in some sort of a forest, and Haruka could recognize the realistic background set he painted for an entire month with the rest of his classmates. Even if it was just something placed far behind the stage and was blocked by actors and props for most of the times, he was still quire proud to see his work being displayed on stage.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Nagisa said, catching Haruka staring at the stage. “We spent weeks putting everything together. Geez, Mako-chan, why did you have to - ”

“Nagisa!” Makoto cut him off. By this point he was blushing so hard even his ears were turning bright red. Haruka looked at him in confusion, half-expecting an explanation, but Makoto only turned his head away.

“Oops, sorry,” Nagisa quickly said. “Swiftly moving on; you guys looking for Rin-chan?”

“Yes, we are,” they said in unison.

“Well, he’s in the backstage, probably yelling at Ai-chan again, so that’s going to take a while,” Nagisa grinned. “But you can hang around to watch our rehearsal if you want to!”

“Oh, uh, I’m afraid I can’t stay for long today, either,” Makoto said apologetically. “I have practice now, so maybe next time.”

“That’s a shame, Mako-chan,” Nagisa said, winking at him. “I’m sure lots of girls would love to have you here.”

“What - no!” Makoto Tachibana tensed up and shook his head. Two girls from their stage play production walked by with a handful of plastic flowers, one of them overheard Nagisa and giggled, making Makoto Tachibana even more fidgety than before.

“You should probably stop talking, Nagisa,” Haruka told him.

“Okay, I’ll let you go this time,” Nagisa chuckled. “But have fun at your practice, Mako-chan!”

“I’ll see you later,” Makoto smiled at him, still recovering from embarrassment, and turned to Haruka. “You, too.”

“I’ll tell Rin you came by,” Haruka said.

“Okay, thanks a lot, Haru!” Makoto looked back on the way out and said, waving at him.

_Wait._

It sounded so natural that Haruka didn’t even realize after a few seconds Makoto Tachibana had left. No one called him Haru except for Rin, and only if he was in a good mood or it would be either Nanase or some kind of horrible nickname he came up with. It almost sounded like he had called him _Haru_ his whole life and Haruka had to remind himself the fact that no, Haruka Nanase and Makoto Tachibana were practically nonexistent in each others’ lives up till this point.

“Are you guys best friends?” Nagisa’s sudden question had Haruka taken aback. “Weird, ‘cause I always thought Rin-chan was your best friend.”

“We have just known each other for two weeks,” Haruka replied.

“You’re kidding,” Nagisa said with mouth agape.

“No, I’m not,” Haruka said. “And why do you have to be so surprised.”

“I don’t know,” Nagisa frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You two give out a vibe that makes people think you’re lifelong friends, if you get what I mean.”

“…No.”

“You are definitely lacking romanticism, Haru-chan,” Nagisa shook his head as if in pity of Haruka’s denial.

“And you have a bit too much,” Haruka commented.

“Actors are all romanticists!” Nagisa refuted. “You know, when we were rehearing Act 2 of _West Side Story_ last year _,_ Rin-chan bawled his eyes out - ”

“Nagisa, I will not hesitate to kick you out of the cast if you don’t get your ass back on stage.”

Rin sighed in annoyance as Nagisa laughed and ran off onto the center of the stage, continuing to strike up conversations with other members of staff of the stage play production, exclusively with this nerdy-looking guy with thick-framed glasses whom Haruka didn’t know.

“Anyway,” Rin turned back to Haruka. “What are you doing here?”

“Your food,” Haruka reminded him, holding out the bag of McDonalds’ takeaway he got on the way here with a bottle of coke.

“Oh, yeah,” Rin said. “Thanks. I can’t even remember that I’m actually starving to death, this whole thing is killing me internally.”

“Tachibana was looking for you.”

“Then where is he?” Rin looked around him, but Makoto Tachibana was already nowhere to be found.

“Basketball practice.”

“Oh, right, I think Kisumi told me about their match,” Rin said. “Speaking of Makoto, are you guys a _thing_ now?”

“Are you ever gonna get tired of this joke,” Haruka threw him a grimace.

“No, no, I’m not joking,” Rin insisted. “I’m being a hundred-percent serious right now. He drove you back that night, didn’t he?”

“So what.”

Rin was about to open with mouth and start another argument, but an English song unknown to Haruka blasted on full volume in a sudden.

“Oh, wait, I got a call,” Rin took his ringing phone out of his back pocket. “Hello? Makoto?”

Rin immediately turned around and walked to the opposite direction with his hands half-covering his mouth to hide whatever he was talking to Makoto Tachibana over the phone. Haruka heard something like ‘yup, I’ll be there in a sec’, and ‘thanks so much you saved my life’. Then Rin mouthed ‘see you’ at him and dashed out the room.

Nagisa dropped a prop again; the huge noise that the fake lamp made dragged Haruka back into reality, in where jealousy wouldn’t even matter if he chose to do nothing about it. He walked out of the hall without saying goodbye to any one of them.

 

***

 

Everyone in the lecture was handed out a thin leaflet from the Museum of Contemporary Art. It was about some kind of a contest, a color sketching contest. Almost everyone skipped the introduction part in which contained artists’ famous quotes and the enrichment effect of joining this event, and went straight to the section about awards.

“A whole week in Paris,” Maeda exclaimed. “I mean, how cool would it be.”

“Yeah,” Haruka only answered half-heartedly, preoccupied by the doodle on the corner of his notepad.

“Are you gonna enter, Araki?”

“Nah. The project is already killing me, I don't have time for another one.”

“But’s just sketching.”

“Realistic sketching is a bitch, Maeda, in case you have forgotten.”

Haruka raised his head upon the words ‘realistic sketching’. It was basically the only thing he was willing to draw, no matter how many teachers had told him that his imagination was needed and he was somehow ‘diminishing’ his own talent because of the verisimilitude of his style. But he never changed his ways, and instead told everyone who tried to correct him that he ‘only drew reality’, while the reality in his eyes sometimes consisted of mermaids and dragons and Greek gods.

“What, Nanase,” Maeda said, noticing Haruka’s rare attention to their conversation. “You interested?”

Haruka took the leaflet from Maeda’s desk and read it through. It was a very structured contest, with specific rules and specific requirements. It also had a set theme: the ocean. Haruka said nothing while he stuffed the leaflet into his bag and his two classmates snickered.

Now he just needed to find an ocean to draw, which was probably going to be the most difficult part of the piece. Because there were no fucking seasides in the center of Tokyo, only reservoirs and sewers. Except for the university pool, of course, which was of a decent size, and could somehow, in some ways, resemble an ocean at its calmest state. The problem was that he could not simply enter the pool. 

There was a long story behind why Rin and he were banned from the university private pool until further notice; or at least that was what Rin always said when he was questioned about it. Basically what happened was they both decided to quit the swim team due to increasing academic workload while being two of the best members. The captain, of course, urged them to stay until the summer inter-university tournament, to which they gravely refused. The team then retreated to the worst way of calling out quitters; labelling them as deserters who were too scared of losing. This resulted in pushing Rin over his mental breaking point and he then smashed one of the windows by throwing a broom left aside of the pool, which in other circumstances would be pretty impressive and Haruka was pretty sure for this reason Rin was approached by the track team.

And god knew why he thought consulting Rin about the matter would be a good idea.

“Just break in,” Rin told him promptly.

“That’s trespassing,” Haruka said. “They can call the police. I can be arrested.”

“Who cares,” Rin rolled his eyes, walking over to his cabinet and reached to the tallest shelf, taking out a bottle of beer.

“…What are you doing.”

“Here,” Rin held out the bottle to him. “Drink this, _then_ break in to the pool.”

“I am not drinking that,” Haruka said, cautiously taking a step away.

“Trust me,” Rin said. “Life is too short to wait around on your ass not doing shit to get what you want. Drink it, and then break in.”

“No.”

“Nanase.”

“I said no,” Haruka snapped, raising his voice.

“Okay, fine,” Rin shrugged, slamming the bottle on his table and Haruka was pretty sure it would shatter if he used a bit more strength. “Sit on your ass and do nothing then. I’m going out now.”

“Out where.”

“To meet my boyfriend, mom,” Rin said in a horridly high-pitched voice, making a face at Haruka while he grabbed his jacket.

“If that’s the case, maybe you’re the one who should drink it,” Haruka said, unsure if Rin was joking or not because Rin - well, Rin was pretty low-key when it came to his love life, but Haruka swore that he could almost smell something fishy about him.

To Haruka’s surprise, instead of throwing a sarcastic remark back at him like usual, Rin sighed and smoothed his hair backwards.

“You know what?” he said. “I should.”

“Seriously.”

“Yeah.” Haruka watched while Rin downed a quarter of the bottle in one go. “‘cause _why not_.”

_Yeah, why not, huh._

“Rin,” Haruka said. “Give me the bottle.”

 

***

 

It was 12:04am and pitch darkness roamed the university grounds, but Haruka was unafraid. He was tipsy, but not yet drunk enough to completely ignore the possible consequences of his upcoming actions. Sometimes he hated how good his alcohol tolerance was, that he could never get a taste of drunkenness even if he wanted to sometimes.

He gently walked through the lane surrounded by bushes and trees, hoping that no one decided to patrol around the swimming pool. If he was caught red-handed for trespassing, he could seriously get kicked out of school.

“Nanase-kun? What are you doing here?”

Haruka turned to the familiar voice in the darkness. It was Makoto Tachibana, his hands were gripping firmly onto the straps of his backpack, he looked somewhat frightened. Haruka felt like he was scantily holding back a major heart attack.

“Not much,” Haruka said, trying not to sound that he was literally about to jump. “What are _you_ doing here.”

“I was…walking, home,” Makoto Tachibana stuttered.

“Oh,” Haruka said. “Goodbye, then.”

“Wait!” Haruka felt his sleeve being tucked, and Makoto Tachibana following right behind him. “You, uh, going somewhere?”

“I’m breaking into the swimming pool.”

“What? Why?”

“For my sketch.”

“Do you, um, think it’s okay if I come with you?” Makoto looked away when he requested.

“…You’re afraid of the dark, aren’t you,” Haruka said, hoping the street lights were dim enough to hide his smile.

“Huh?” Makoto Tachibana looked sheepish and remained reticent to the question.

Haruka stared him down. He had a good body build, at least 6 feet tall, and could be perfect for anatomy sketching sessions but they could never have him as a model or the girls would go mental. And right now he was fishing in his pockets looking for his phone so he could use it as a flashlight on the way back to the dormitory.

“Cute,” Haruka said.

“Wh-what?” Makoto Tachibana said self-consciously.

“Nothing. We gotta go before the security guards come around.”

“Nanase-kun, wait for me!” Makoto Tachibana hurried up to catch up with Haruka’s footsteps towards the university sports stadium.

“Can you not call me that.” Haruka was kind of pissed that Makoto Tachibana couldn’t remember the fact that he called him by his first name when they last parted without even noticing himself.

“Call you what?”

“Nanase-kun. Sounds so weird.”

“But you call me Tachibana.”

“Then I’ll call you Makoto, if that’s what you want.”

“Should I call you Haruka?”

“No.”

“Haru-chan?” Makoto said jokingly, earning himself a glare from Haruka.

“That’s worse.”

“Haru it is then.”

Breaking into the pool did not even require any form of violence because apparently the person who was in charge of the keys did not keep track of locking the door. The glass door opened with an eerie screech, making Makoto jump a little, and continued to hide behind Haruka’s back when they walked in.

Haruka didn’t even bother to take off his clothes when he jumped into the pool and submerged into the water, completely unaware of the fact that it was minus three degrees outside. Makoto just stood there, uncertain whether he should join in the madness or call the police.

Taking a deep breath, Haruka sunk into the water, swimming towards the other end of the stadium. He hadn’t done this in a long time, since he quitted the swim team and focused on getting paint all over his shirt instead. He couldn’t say that he didn’t miss it, all the water and freedom and the quietness once the pool was emptied and he was left alone to practice. When Rin was still a décor member of the team and was tired of all the shit that was going on in the Drama department he would come here to take a dip and then leave before the actual swim team came in.

“I thought you came here to draw?” Makoto called out from the benches at the side of the pool, still fully wrapped with at least two layers of jacket.

“I am going to,” Haruka said.

“How are you going to draw when you’re soaked?”

“I brought towels.”

“Wow, you really had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

Haruka felt like he had to explain himself to Makoto, to reassure him that he was not an expert in breaking into private properties so he could swim. “Someone told me to go for it, and he gave me beer.”

“That ‘someone’ sounds like Rin.”

“Charming, isn’t he.”

“So what are you supposed to draw, a swimming pool?

“The ocean.”

“Why don’t you just go to the ocean instead?”

“The pool is the ocean to me. At least in Tokyo.”

“Why?” Too many questions. Haruka sighed.

He had always lived by the ocean, the ocean was like a part of his house, part of his back garden, his everyday life. The beaches in Tokyo were crowded, full of people and garbage, noisiness, with cars passing by and parked by the seaside. The ocean he knew was clean, tranquil, far from all the mess and pollution that he disliked. Out of all the large masses of water in Tokyo, this pool with a sound temperate monitor was closest to home.

“Because the ocean in Tokyo isn’t the ocean I know.” After a good amount of pondering, Haruka asserted.

“That’s a very immense level of realism.”

“I only draw things that are real to me.”

“Well, I’m not an artist, but as a writer, I think I can understand what you mean. Here,” Makoto walked over to Haruka’s side of the pool and reached out his hand.

“You’ll fall over.” _And then I’ll fall over._

“Let’s see about that.”

Haruka hesitated for a moment before grabbing his hand. He was strong, much stronger that Haruka had expected. When Haruka felt his body being lifted up from the cold water in a chimerical state of ataraxia.

Green was all he could see in a flash.

A second later Haruka was brought back on his feet on the solid ground, breaking the alcohol-induced fantasy. Neither of them fell over, but from another perspectives only Haruka did.

“Thanks,” he muttered, turning around to grab his towel and drying his upper torso and hair. After six months out of water, he had noticeably become slower, but he was different now. Rather than diving into another ocean, he’d rather picture one in his head and draw it all out.

“Well, I better head back now,” Makoto told him. “I’ll leave you to complete your work.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he smiled kind of quirkily. “Goodnight, Haru.”

“Goodnight.”

Makoto picked up his backpack and waved at Haruka again before leaving the swimming pool, closing the main entrance door gently. Haruka proceeded to dry his hair in a manner that was rougher than usual.

_Great,_ Haruka thought. The ocean turned out to be green and he had only brought blue pencils with him.

 

_***_

 

That girl had waist-long hair and a slim figure. The way she held onto Makoto was too intimate for a friend, but not close enough to be a lover.

Haruka did not understand why he had to be so bothered about this sight. Makoto was like, one of the most popular guys in this city, probably; it was no surprise that he had a girlfriend, or some sort of a love interest. Haruka couldn’t see her face, he could only see her dark extended eyelashes and the flower hair clip at the back of her head. She was not particularly tall, her head barely as high as Makoto’s shoulder, and she was walking kind of wobbly in her high heels. Her arms were clinging onto Makoto’s arm for balance while they made their way through the hallway. Makoto was kind of walking in front of her, protecting her like a shield while she hid her face behind his back as if in shame.

“Hi, Haru!” Makoto greeted him when they walked across each other.

“Hi,” Haruka said.

“Are you going to class?” he asked, and Haruka noticed that he did not acknowledge his girlfriend, his friend, or whoever she was to him.

“No, I’m heading to meet Rin and Nagisa.”

“Oh, in that case, can you pass something to Rin for me?”

“Okay,” Haruka said, eyeing at the girl who seemed even more uncomfortable in his presence.

“Do you mind letting go of me just for a second?” Makoto asked the girl gently. “I need to get something out of my bag.”

The girl just nodded quickly and loosened up her hands, seemingly unable to balance her body steadily, while Makoto rummaged through his bag and finally pulled out another brown envelope.

“Here it is,” he said, handing the envelope to Haruka. “Thanks a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Haruka said, giving the girl a last glance when she grabbed onto Makoto tightly again when they walked away.

_Weird._

Rin was with Nagisa in the cafeteria waiting for him. The amount of food piled up on their table was almost intimidating. Judging by the number of wrapping papers on the food tray, Nagisa was eating his fifth submarine sandwich.

“Hey,” Rin said when Haruka sat down beside him.

“Aren’t you supposed to watch what you eat before the performance,” Haruka asked Nagisa.

“I haven’t eaten for a whole entire day,” Nagisa said with a mouthful of bread. “Rin-chan was horrible to us.”

“‘A day’ as in four freaking hours, Nagisa,” Rin snapped.

“That’s still a long time!”

“Rin” Haruka cut them off before Rin could fire back at Nagisa, probably with a speech of how hard he worked for the stage play. “Makoto asked me to give this to you.”

“Oh, so you’re calling him _Makoto_ now, aren’t you?” Rin raised an eyebrow when he took the envelope from Haruka’s hand. Nagisa smirked at him across the table.

“What, you call him Makoto, too,” Haruka expostulated a bit too quickly.

“I’m just saying,” Rin shrugged, taking out the content of the envelope. It was a stack of paper, pinned together neatly by a binder clip. Haruka tried to look at them, or sneak a glance of what was written on the paper, but Rin covered them up with his arms on the table.

“Did Mako-chan change anything on the script again?” Nagisa asked.

“Script?” Haruka said.

“Nothing,” Rin quickly took over. “Nagisa, we need to go now. Rehearsal starts in ten minutes.”

“No, wait, Nagisa said something about Makoto changing your script,” Haruka cut him off.

“Well, yeah, Mako-chan wrote the script, so he is the one who amends it,” Nagisa said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Haruka’s eyes widened ever so slightly while Rin face-palmed himself. Nagisa still looking at both of them obliviously, stuffing his mouth with another bite of his sandwich.

“Nagisa, do you even understand the concept of a ‘secret’?” Rin sighed, now lying facedown on his palms.

“I do?” Nagisa said in confusion, obviously not understanding Rin’s arising anger.

“Do you remember the reason why Makoto would even write the script for us in the first place?”

“Becuase we promised him that we would keep a secret of who wrote the - oh.” Nagisa stuck his tongue out and said. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“You _forgot_ ,” Rin repeated in disbelief. “You forgot. I swear to god, I am literally going to - Don’t tell Makoto that you know or I will cut your hands off, got it?” He turned to Haruka and gave him the most terrifying glare ever.

Haruka only shrugged while Nagisa laughed apologetically. Rin sighed again and rubbed his temples in an irritated manner.

“Why didn’t he want anyone else to know, anyway?” Nagisa asked.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, he has zero confidence in himself. I mean, has he looked into a mirror lately?”

So that was the secret. Big deal. Wouldn’t had made a difference even if he had never known, anyway. Haruka sighed again and took some fries out of Nagisa’s plate, reminding himself that it was never his part to be caring so much.

Makoto gave him his number, unanticipated and sudden. One day after his lecture he saw Makoto standing outside of the room, and he just went over to him naturally, like he had always picked him up from class.

“I thought that since we are friends now, we should have a proper way of contacting instead of relying on the luck of bumping into each other every time.” Makoto smiled at him. _Luck_ , he called those luck, he called those countless awkward situations _luck_. Haruka thought it was funny that he put it in this way.

For some reason he kept this from Rin. Not that he was afraid to be laughed at, or made fun of, because he was used to Rin being like this; it wouldn’t be Rin if he didn’t try to argue, and he would had just reinforce the fact that he and Makoto were really just friends, anyway. But somehow, it felt different. This particular number on his phone, although known by many in the campus, felt private to him, and he didn’t want to share it.

Sometimes he even forgot how popular Makoto was exactly when they were alone.

He had been on Makoto’s car two times after the party. They went to another one a few weeks ago, and a supermarket two miles away from campus on Friday. Haruka was riding shotgun by default, and they ate chocolate which Makoto restocked in the glove box. They had lunch together almost everyday, and Haruka watched his basketball match (they won by 76:57). Makoto introduced him to his friends in the basketball team and made Seto apologize. Haruka sketched in Makoto’s dorm room while he was writing up his essay, and he always made enough coffee for two people. He was seeing Rin less because Rin was seeing someone else, most likely his secret love interest which wasn’t really a secret anymore, but Haruka had never been so uninterested in anything else than before.

Which included drawing and sketching. But he was still very irritated when he found that one of the pencils were missing.

The last time he had used it was when he laid down on Makoto’s bed and drawing on his sketchpad using his flattest pillow as a table. They didn’t talk for a good thirty-minutes, both invested in their work but the silence wasn’t awkward, it was just still.

“What are you drawing?” Makoto suddenly asked.

“My sketch.”

“The pool?”

“The ocean.”

“Oh, right,” Makoto said. “Sorry.” And Haruka guessed that Makoto Tachibana would be the first and last one to ever apologize for pointing out Haruka Nanase’s nonsense.

Haruka carefully spread out his different shades of green and turquoise and olive, coloring in his initial pencil sketch. He tried to remember what he saw last night, but the vivid image had disappeared, he could not choose which green to use, and neither could he remember how the night blue sky shone across the indoor pool without being reflected by the calm surface of the water.

“Hey, Haru.”

Haruka turned around again, Makoto was smiling at him.

“You should take a break.”

“No,” Haruka said. “I’m just getting started.”

This time he did not hesitate when he reached for the darkest olive he could find.

 

***

 

Haruka sighed as he threw aside the last piece of clothing inside his drawer, knowing that the chance of finding the olive pencil was slim but still worth a shot.

Nothing had been going right since he got up on the floor in the morning. Right, the floor, not his bed with two sheets on top of him. His legs were almost frozen because the boys’ dorm heating system was broken and it was cold as fuck in his room. He rushed to class because his alarm was scheduled at the wrong time, didn’t have time to get breakfast or at least a sip of coffee, and when he got to the lecture room his favorite sketching pen that he had kept in his bag since the age of 16 was nowhere to be found. After class he got a text from his parents telling him there was no need to return to Iwatobi for holiday because they wouldn't be home. The food in the cafeteria was sold out before he got there. Makoto was probably still hanging out with that girl. Makoto didn’t come to see him, he didn’t even call.

He plopped himself on the bed lying face down on his pillow. It was literally three days until winter break but he had never felt so shit. He was kind of looking forward to going home and enjoy his break without thousands of people screaming in his ears on a daily basis, and he could draw in his room all day without being interrupted, and finally cook himself some decent hot dinner in the common room kitchen.

After about an hour he woke up in a start, turning over and found Makoto hovering over him, gently shaking him awake. Well, not exactly hovering, but he was there, and that was all Haruka really needed to know. The clock on the wall read 10:54pm.

“Sorry for breaking into your room,” Makoto said; Haruka never locked his door for various reasons. “But I called you for at least fifty times and you never answered.”

“It’s fine,” Haruka said, holding back a yawn.

“I came by to give you this,” Makoto told him, and held out his hands. It was his olive sketching pencil, all in one piece. “I found this in my bed. It’s yours, right?”

“It is,” Haruka replied, taking the pen. All of a sudden his day felt less shittier. “Thanks.”

“It’s okay,” Makoto said. “Do you use this pencil often?”

“Kind of. Lately.” He used up almost half of it just for his sketch.

“You must be freaking out when you couldn’t find it.”

“I was,” Haruka admitted.

“I’m glad I found it, then.”

He understood. Everything about Haruka that he couldn’t even make sense to himself somehow made proper sense to Makoto. Haruka couldn’t help but to smile to himself, just a tiny bit.

“So,” Makoto continued. “Aren’t you going out for the night?”

“Probably not.”

“It’s snowing,” Makoto went over to his curtains and flung them open. He was right, it was the first snow day in winter. The snow was beginning to pile up as more drizzled down from the sky like white raindrops. No wonder it was especially cold. “Since we’ve both got nothing else to do, do you want to head out?”

“Hm.”

“Please?” Makoto did the thing again, the thing that made people fall for him. The unintentional affection went along with a certain of amount of expectations, and Haruka gave in almost immediately.

“Just let me grab my coat.”

Makoto must had wrapped himself up like he was going on a trip to the North Pole. His face was half-buried in his red scarf and thick jacket while Haruka only wore a hoodie on top of his shirt and warm socks.

“Aren’t you cold?” Makoto asked.

“No.”

“Look at your lips, it’s literally turning purple as you speak,” Makoto commented, walking over to Haruka. Without warning Haruka felt the soft fabric wrapped around his neck with Makoto’s body temperature lingering on it.

“I don’t need it.”

“Just take it. You would miss the awarding ceremony if you caught a cold, wouldn’t you?”

“I won’t win, anyway.” Haruka said. He had sent out his sketch along with his creative brief a day ago, and had received a confirmation, but that was it.

“No, you will,” Makoto said firmly, not noticing that Haruka had stopped walking. “I know you will.”

Snow was falling and Haruka could feel the iciness on his shoulders and nose. Makoto breathed out a mist of white when he rubbed his hands against his elbows. “It’s so cold out here.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope Rin’s performance can still be successful under this kind of weather.”

Haruka looked up to the sky. The snow washed away the gray clouds above, leaving an unblemished trail of freshness. “You’re going, right?”

“Where to?”

“Rin’s stage play.”

“Of course, there’s no way I wouldn’t support him.”

“I know you wrote the script,” Haruka told him. Makoto’s face slowly turned crimson, but he did not get angry.

“I see,” Makoto said quietly, scratching the back of his neck and still blushing a bit. “Did Rin tell you?”

“Nagisa accidentally did, but don’t tell Rin because he will cut my hands off.”

“You know he would never do that,” Makoto grinned.

“He might,” Haruka shrugged.

“Rin loves you,” Makoto suddenly said, his face solemn. Watching Haruka’s face fell in horrid, he quickly added, “No, not in that way! I mean, he loves you as a friend, a very good friend. You might not believe me but Rin always talks about you, and how nice you are, which I think is actually a bit odd because he never told me anything about you until a couple of months ago - ”

“Makoto,” Haruka cut him off before his explanation becomes way too lengthy to cover up the real reason why he had invited him to head out that night.

“Huh?”

When Makoto turned he was smashed by a hand full of freshly-fallen snow. After wiping them off his eyelashes he saw Haruka’s rare grin, gloves stained and soaked.

“Just to warn you, I have two younger siblings so I’m pretty good at this.” Makoto bent down and started making a snowball in his hands while Haruka sprinted off to hide, only ended up being hit square on the forehead when he tried to dodge the attack.

Like a couple of preschool boys they ran around the empty park throwing handfuls of snow at each other, laughing like they had too much to drink and couldn't feel the cold air which cleared the smell of gas of the fast-paced city. They were both dipped in snow but neither of them cared, because at that moment they were free. Freed from everyone, from all of their troubles in the day, from all the rules and norms that pulled them apart. Even freed from reality itself.

Haruka gave in and collapsed on the ground, feeling Makoto doing the same beside him. They laid there in silence, looking at the sky illuminated by skyscrapers and imagining stars that would never be seen in Tokyo. Their arms were so close their jackets were brushing against each other, and Haruka could almost feel another pulse, beating at a different speed and gradually merging in with his.

“I feel like I have known you forever,” Makoto whispered in the darkness.

And at that moment Haruka genuinely thought Makoto was going to kiss him.

 

 

***

 

Haruka woke up again at eleven in the morning thinking the night out was all just a dream. He had twenty missed calls from Rin and fifty-three angry text messages inquiring him “DID YOU GET LAID LAST NIGHT YOU LITTLE SHIT I WENT OVER AT MIDNIGHT AND YOU WEREN’T THERE”, of which he replied “no”, but he wasn’t entirely sure what else he had done as well. Yesterday was like an acid trip and he accidentally got high on his own fantasies. Makoto’s scarf was left on his desk, serving as a proof that he did not imagine it.

_Shit_. Makoto. They were bound to see each other again at Rin’s stage play. Haruka wanted to dive back under the blanket and to never come out.

He was far from getting laid, alright, but they did _nearly_ kiss last night. And it was one of those awkward near kisses when one of the person intended to do it and the other person did it unintentionally, so they just kind of looked at each other, lips barely touching, but neither brave enough to make the move. Makoto ended up brushing off the snow off his shoulders and turned away in embarrassment when they walked back to the dorm.

 

Rin: u should probably leave now

Me: it’s only eleven

Rin: no i called makoto to pick you up at 12 bc i need you guys to help out in here

Me: why

Rin: and he said he would LOVE to

Me: i mean why did u do that

Rin: bc i am now counting on him to keep your shit together and he is doing a much better job than i did

Me: I dont need you or anyone else to keep my shit together

Rin: trust me, you sometimes do. See you soon.

 

Just from Rin’s text messages Haruka could tell that he was upbeat, which only happened once in a while especially on performance days. He wondered what had happened that triggered such a drastic change of mood.

He got off his bed unwillingly and brushed his teeth, discovering that he was out of coffee so decided to get some in the convenient store before leaving for the stage play. He internally debated with himself before picking out a brand new shirt and cutting off the label attached to it. He stood in front of the mirror for more than five-seconds which definitely broke his personal record, pondering if he looked good in it, whether it went with his jeans, and his hair, as he never knew what was considered ‘good’ enough.

Unconsciously but sedulously brushing his hair backwards, Haruka walked out of his room at eleven-forty-five.

“Looking good, huh?” Makoto grinned at Haruka when he saw him walking towards the car. He was wearing a white shirt, too, buttoned right till the collar and carefully ironed.

“Did you mean yourself or me,” Haruka raised an eyebrow, purposely teasing him.

“Of course I meant you,” Makoto quickly explained. Haruka felt strangely satisfied at Makoto’s flustered gestures. They both got into the car without another word.

Haruka noticed that a bunch of spare props and costumes were shoved into the backseat and luggage compartment, barely leaving enough room for anything at all. He remembered Rin freaking out every night before a major performance, ringing all his friends at least three times when he thought he couldn't find his hair gel or eyeliner or something. But Rin didn’t do so this time around.

“Ready?” Makoto asked. Haruka nodded, and he started the engine. 

The radio shows were as boring as usual. There was a ‘horoscope special’ interval in which the hostess ardently explained the fortune of the week.

“ _Cancer will find themselves troubled emotionally about relationships, but don’t worry! It will be resolved sooner than you think._ ”

“Do you believe in that,” Haruka asked.

“What, horoscopes?” Makoto said, slightly turning his head towards the passenger’s seat.

“Yeah.”

“Hm, I don’t know. Sometimes it can be strangely accurate, don’t you think?” Makoto said.

“ _The lucky item for Cancer is any kind of stationary, preferably acquired from a significant someone!_ ”

“Yeah, maybe,” Haruka answered. 

“Do you?”

“Depends.”

When they arrive the theatre Rin was already waiting for them at the entrance with a few of his lowerclassman, helping to unload all their things from Makoto’s car.

“I can never thank you enough for this,” Rin said to Makoto, reaching up and ruffling his hair.

“It’s fine,” Makoto said. “In case I can’t see you later; break a leg!”

“Break a leg,” Haruka said. Rin stared at him.

“Are you _actually_ wishing me good luck?” he asked.

“No, literally, break a leg,” Haruka said.

Rin turned and walked away with a middle finger stuck up in the air for Haruka to see. Makoto only laughed.

When they entered the theatre, the stage was already all set up and ready to go. Rin managed to get them free tickets (‘only because they helped out’ as he said) but they were stuck in the back, as the annual performance of the drama department was usually full-house packed with parents, professors, rival production teams from other universities and the general public.

Haruka stood by the front row seats when the drama department was fishing the last preparations on stage and makeup artists were adding final details on the actors and actress’s faces. Nagisa waved at him with heavy eyeliner applied and undried gel on his hair, the tall-glasses-guy was standing next to him. Haruka waved back ever so slightly, squinting at the dazzling spotlights flashing from above.

There were some pamphlets left on the seats containing information of the cast and production team. Rin’s photo was ridiculous, Haruka thought, but he focused on the fact that on the corner of the first page the name of the script writer was printed as ‘anonymous’ in a small font.

Makoto was in the seat next to his, tensed and leaning forward, vigorously smoothing his hair with his fingers. Haruka then sat down beside him, gently taking hold of his wrist. Makoto raised his head and looked at him.

“Don’t,” Haruka said, hoping that the rest of his words could be transmitted through touching skin instead.

“Okay,” Makoto whispered. His shoulders fell in relaxation and Haruka let go of him.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.”

The entrance door opened sharp at three o’clock, and wouldn’t be opened for another three hours. The audience poured in with tickets in hands and searching for their seats. Haruka and Makoto walked back up the stairs to their assigned seats.

“Hey,” Haruka tapped Makoto’s shoulder and gave him a pack of Maltesers he hid in his bag before entering. The snacks they sold there was expensive as hell so he got some in the supermarket beforehand.

“Thanks,” Makoto smiled gratefully, popping one in his mouth when the lights went out. The stage set was blue, so was Makoto under Haruka’s submerging gaze.

Rin came out from the backstage, and Haruka could immediately tell that he was not nervous even from such a great distance. Makoto grabbed onto the handrail attached to the theatre seats, and Haruka could hear his sigh mixed with the last escape of anxiousness.

Haruka never had the chance to read the script through, mostly because Rin always found excuses not let him to. The story was pretty easy to follow; it opened with a war hero returning to his hometown only to find that everything had changed. His parents had passed away, his old lover had eloped with the landlord’s son, everything that he once knew had disappeared overnight. During the play Makoto shifted in his seats uncomfortably as if wanting to leave, but he never did.

“ _We did not fall at first sight, but at second glance._ ” Rin walked across the stage with the heroine’s hand in his. As the war hero in the story, his head was held high, and he was searching for someone in the crowd.

Haruka smiled to himself in the dark. Even if he hadn't known that Makoto had written the script, he would had guessed that it was him anyway; only someone could write words as delicate, and make cliches sound like a new start.

When the play had finally ended, the audience applauded as loud as the thunder and it shook Haruka.

“Why are you so insecure,” Haruka suddenly alleged, turning his head to face the other boy. “When you are capable of making something so incredible.”

The theater drapes drew open, revealing the entire cast. Rin said something to thank the audience, but it was unintelligible over the noises, and probably because Haruka was too flustered after the moment of confession.

But Makoto did not reply. He simply gave Haruka a glance of surprise, and lowered his head again, his hands gripping tight on the chair handles.

“Are you crying?” Haruka asked. Makoto wasn’t exactly crying, or anywhere near sobbing, but tears were forming at the corner of his eyes, which he wiped away with the back of his hand.

“No one has ever said that to me,” Makoto said, biting his lips and smiling, trying to hide his overflowing emotions that were already projected by the actors on stage, reciting every word he had written, every movement he had remarked.

When their eyes met, Rin and his cast bowed one last time and the audience applauded once more, standing up as the cheering became louder. Coloring Makoto’s eyes in blue, Haruka saw himself engulfed in green before he could even swim towards the surface. If you looked closer, you would see that the _hot guy from the Literature Department, Good-looking, body’s like a Greek god, smiles at literally everything that breathes in his way_ had his own flaws, but no one had ever, Haruka reckoned, tried to overlook his superficial attractiveness, and realized that what was outside was incomparable with what he had within him.

Haruka didn’t fall in love because of his face; he didn’t fall in love because of his body build. He didn't fall in love in the way everyone else did. He fell in love because of his kind words, his ability to understanding all of these artistic weirdness, the way he smiled in the cold while covering his mouth with his gloves to keep warm, the way they knew each other for life in the time span of four months.

Maybe he fell in love for all the wrong reasons, but that was all right with him.

 

***

 

The first wave of crowd already headed towards the train station or the parking lot, leaving Rin and the rest of the cast of the production in the main lobby talking to some important-looking people. Haruka took a glimpse of Rin; someone had an arm across his shoulder while he laughed with a glass of wine in his hand. Feeling relieved, Haruka followed Makoto to the exit.

It was still snowing outside. Haruka tightened his scarf (he never returned Makoto’s and he didn’t seem to mind) while Makoto zipped his jacket.

“We’re not driving back?” Haruka asked when he noticed they were heading the opposite way of the parking lot.

“Not yet,” Makoto said. “I found this place earlier; figured you may want to see it. Do you want to - ?” He trailed off in hesitance, looking at Haruka.

“Sure,” Haruka replied. “Why not.”

Makoto smiled under clouds lightened up by the colors of dusk.

It took them about five minutes to reach Makoto’s planned destination.There was a food vendor stall at the entrance of the park and there was a cue in front of it. Makoto fumbled in his pocket for change. “You can go ahead,” he told Haruka. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Haruka nodded and entered the gate. There was a small walk in the garden trail, all covered with snow with no flowers or grass to be seen. The bare branches on the trees made the picture complete. Winter had already crept in while he was buried with his studies and projects and coursework.

The lake was not frozen, but pieces of solid ice were floating on the clear water along with brown leaves left from late autumn. Under the streetlights the snow were illuminated by a shade of yellow and grey, covering the landscape of the city and at that moment everything stood still. The commotion of the buzz in the city disappeared, leaving nothing but the rhythmic sound of snow falling, landing on their waterproof jackets and hoods.

“Sorry for the wait!”

Haruka turned, and saw Makoto walking towards him with two steamingpaper cups in his hands, leaving a trail of footprints behind him.

“Thanks,” he said when given one of the cups. It smelt of chocolate mixed with the crispness of the air.

“It’s beautiful here,” Makoto said.

“Yeah,” Haruka agreed. He still thought the pool was better; the lake was too big to be his ocean, too crowded as well. He wanted an ocean all for himself.

“I thought you might wanted to see this,” Makoto explained, glancing over the calm surface of the lake. “The seasides of Tokyo might not be as pleasant, but I think this is.”

“It is,” Haruka said, taking a sip from the paper cup. “Pleasant.”

They leaned on the fences surrounding the lake, drinking their hot chocolate. Children riding bikes and scooters ran pass them laughing, their parents sitting on benches under the bare trees. Couples walked through the main road hand in hand, wearing matching scarfs and beanies. They were standing so close to each other, hands just a few inches apart. Haruka stretched his knuckles to feel his numbed hand, and felt his fingers brushing Makoto’s.

It would had taken him a lifetime’s courage to just reach over and grab his hand.

Makoto seemed to be unaware of Haruka’s movements, probably because he was wearing thick gloves. Haruka stuffed his hand into his pocket, feeling subtlety frustrated for virtually no reason.

On the way back to the parking lot, the silence between them were filled with crowds of departing audiences and busy traffic. Haruka kept his bare hands inside of his coat pockets, reserving his body warmth.

“Wait, Haru.”

Haruka paused his footsteps and turned around, only to see Makoto out of every stranger that walked pass him, still wrapped up with a ridiculous amount of clothing, looking right back at him, seemingly more jittery than usual.

“I,” Makoto started. “I - ”

Haruka felt like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and he was either going to pass out or throw up at that moment. Makoto was still searching his words like finding a way out of a paradox. Maybe he would comprehend the fact that after taking a turn they were back at the same spot, and everything had never been so obvious to Haruka.

It was the last episode of a hackneyed drama series, the last minute of a melodramatic film, the last panel of a shoujo manga. 

“I just…want to tell you,” Makoto continued, now facing directly at Haruka. “Thank you, for everything.”

_Oh._

“I didn't do anything at all,” Haruka muttered, heart sinking.

“You… since I got to know you, I started to believe in more things. Like my own writing, that oceans can be pools, and…” Makoto trailed off, still wearing a nervous smile while looking at the ground. “You made me believe in myself in a way I’ve never had; I don’t know how you did it, but you just - did.”

Haruka remained silent.

“Sorry, that’s a really weird thing to say, isn’t it?” Makoto laughed stiffly.

“So is that all you want to say?” Haruka asked, trying not to show any hints of disappointment and exploding devastation, the kind of devastation you get when reality did not match with expectations.

“Um, and - ”

“Makoto! Thank god I found you! Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

It was Kisumi Shinigo. He looked like he had run a long way to find Makoto, panting as he doubled over and catch his breath.

“What happened, Kisumi?” Makoto asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“Professor Fukuda - from University of Tokyo, wants to meet the script writer!” Kisumi explained, grabbing Makoto’s arm. “Come on, we gotta go before he leaves!”

“But, Haru - ” Makoto looked at him reluctantly.

“Go,” Haruka told him. “You definitely impressed a lot more people than you originally intended to.”

Makoto smiled. And since he hardly deemed anything to be beautiful in his life as an artist, it meant something more than just a smile to him. Haruka watched as Makoto ran along the road back to the stadium with Kisumi Shinigo, not once turning his head to look back.

 

***

 

“Say it to Rin again,” Haruka told Makoto when Rin sat next to him in the university cafeteria.

“I was offered a scholarship to the University of Kyoto to study literature, because of my script,” Makoto said. Rin humphed.

“And.”

“And I…turned them down.”

Rin stared at Makoto in utter consternation, and Haruka’s frown became even deeper.

“You are a pretty logical person, from what I know,” Rin said. “But - just, why the fuck.”

“I don’t want to move away from my family,” Makoto explained, but Rin raised his eyebrows in suspicion.

“I think there’s more to the reason, though,” he said with a smirk.

“What are you talking about?”

“Okay, nothing. You’re not gonna admit it anyway,” Rin rolled his eyes at him, and Haruka decided to throw something back at him.

“We saw you and the photography guy together, after your show,” Haruka told him, hoping to divert his attention.

“So?” Rin’s reply had Haruka taken aback, as he hadn’t seen his friend grinning in such a relaxed manner in a long time.

“Why aren’t you with him right now?”

“He couldn’t stay. Work and stuff.”

“I’m very happy for you, Rin,” Makoto said with a warm smile.

“Don’t say it like that,” Rin groaned.

“Like what?”

“Like I have been widowed and alone for ten years and found love in Starbucks while having a mid-life crisis; we’re still too young for that,” Rin swiftly replied when he stood up, flinging his bag over his shoulder, as if reciting a line from another play, or maybe he was. “Maybe the next time you see me I will be dating Takuya Kimura instead, who knows. I’ll catch you guys later.”

“How long have you known him for?” Makoto turned to Haruka.

“About ten years.”

“Has he always been like this?”

“Yup.” There was no wonder why Rin majored in drama, he thought. Rin liked it when everyone’s lives were full of drama.

Winter break had ended in mid-January and everything was starting to go back on track. Haruka had finally got his project done (in a way) and sent it off to his professor in the last second possible due to extreme slacking during his holiday. Makoto took some extra time off to visit his family as he was bombarded by people who were trying to scout him into different schools and companies. Rin was mostly nowhere to be seen outside of class, but Haruka knew exactly where he headed.

During their week apart Haruka had a chance to clear up his mind as well as his room which was stained with eraser dust and paint. He hand-washed Makoto’s scarf and hung it up in front of his window as the weather was warming up. He tore the page containing his sketch of Makoto from his sketchbook, but before he hid it away from his drawer, he sat down for two hours and colored it in blue.

The next time he met up with Makoto, it was on the day of the awarding ceremony of the sketching completion. He didn’t want Makoto to come, but he insisted to drive him over because it would take two hours to get to Hakone by train.

Standing in front of the Hakone Museum of Art, Haruka couldn’t help but to feel nervous. Although he had already spent weeks convincing himself that he wouldn’t stand a chance against two thousand contestants from all around Japan, Makoto managed to convince him _out_ of the fatalistic idea.

“You’ll win,” he had been saying since early morning when he picked him up from the dormitory building. “You’ll definitely win,” he said again when they were in the car, driving on the fast lane on full speed towards the awarding ceremony.

“What makes you believe that I will?”

“I just do,” Makoto replied, concealing a smile. “You’re really convincing. Now I basically believe in everything you say.”

“Even if I told you that mermaids were real, would you still believe in me?” Haruka asked jokingly, but the answer he received was spoken beyond with seriousness.

“Maybe I would,” Makoto said, still focusing on the roads in front of him, hands holding onto the steering wheel tightly.

The museum was already packed with people, contestants filled with hope, artists, ammeter painters, parents, friends, professors. The chattering noise was like a thick mist that covered everything and Haruka couldn’t see anything through, the drowning feeling returned, and he almost wanted to turn around and leave.

“Haru.”

Haruka looked back, and just like a photoshoot with a wide-angle focus, Makoto’s smile was the only clarity that stood out of all the fuzz in the city.

“Let’s head in.”

This time his hand was offered to him. Gloved above slightly callused fingers after years of playing basketball, warm and inviting. Haruka took it without second thoughts, allowing Makoto to guide him through the waves of people.

When the ceremony began, Haruka bit his lips and held his breath, waiting for the to announce the second-runner-up, the runner-up and finally the winner. None of those trophies belonged to him, as he had already expected. When the audience gave the winner the biggest round of applause, the award giver cleared his throat and continued.

“Throughout the course of ten years, we have never disqualified any submissions because it does not meet the completion requirement of ‘being a realistic color sketch’,” Professor Okuma continued. “But, surprisingly, we disqualified a piece of work, which, in spite of defying our clear rules, was exceptionally stunning.”

The muttering among the crowd got bigger as the professor walked towards the last clothed easel on the stage. The cloth was pulled off neatly, exposing the hidden sketch to the audience. It was indeed Haruka’s work, as he recognized it out of all the blueness that lingered theprevious pieces. 

His ocean wasn’t blue, and it wasn’t really an ocean, either; it was the university indoor swimming pool which he was still banned from enter, outlined with the midnight sky and no stars and stillness he saw that night. The water was light green, not reflected upon by trees or plants, it was just naturally green, as if it had always been like this.

“In Mr. Haruka Nanase’s creative brief, he has stated that color sketching is an illustration of the reality, of the world surrounding us. He said that in his eyes, the ocean is an indoor pool, and that green was what he saw at that particular moment.”

Haruka could feel Makoto’s hand tugging against his shirt, exhaling a laughter which sounded more like a sob.

_He understood._

“Although we cannot offer any award, nor understand the personal meaning behind this entry, we decided to honor Mr. Haruka Nanase for his sketch.”

The audience applauded again, but the honored participant and his companion were nowhere to be seen.

 

***

 

Makoto parked his car by the empty dock and they both unfastened their seatbelt. Haruka took a deep breath when he felt the sea breeze blowing in his way, looking across the still ocean reflecting the mountains and the skies behind it. It took them thirty minutes to drive up the mountain, but the view was definitely worth it.

It was the blueness he was looking for. It was the ocean. Haruka smiled. They jumped over the railings and sat on the beach, listening to waves crashing against the shore.

“I actually got something for you,” Makoto told him, taking out something from his pocket.

“In case I lost?” Haruka asked.

“No, of course not,” Makoto shook his head, laughing a bit. “It’s just a belated Christmas gift.”

“Christmas was like three weeks ago.”

“I know, but I hadn’t known you enough to pick the right gift.”

Makoto placed something of moderate size wrapped neatly in a colorful paper-bag in Haruka’s outstretched hand.

“What is this,” Haruka asked.

“Just open it.”

So Haruka did. And it was a blue color pencil. A branded kind.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of a metaphor.” Haruka looked at Makoto, holding back a smile.

“Not everything has to be a metaphor,” Makoto replied. “Sometimes it’s just as simple as it seems.”

“But it seems like a confession to me.”

“Because it is a confession.”

Haruka’s heart did not skip a beat from shock like people did in romance novels, but he was indeed shocked. Makoto’s face was burning with red and refused to look at Haruka directly.

“So, where’s the kiss?”

“Wh- what?”

“Now that Rin’s stage play has ended, and I’ve lost the contest, there should be a kiss that leads to the final resolution which wraps up the story,” Haruka said. “Cheesy tropes always serves as the ending; I thought you were a literature student.”

“But this isn’t the end, right?” Makoto chuckled at Haruka’s words.

“If you don’t want this to end, we might as well drag this on forever,” Haruka replied, as if it was a matter of fact.

“I don’t want this to end,” Makoto said, leaning over. “But I’m still going to kiss you.”

Makoto leaned closer, and Haruka closed his eyes.

 

***

 

Me: We are a thing now

Rin: wow fucking finally

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this (I really do hope so because if you didn’t I would have wasted you a lot of time and if that’s the case I’m sorry I know this fic is kinda weird and shitty I hesitated for a whole day before posting it).  
> This is the longest story i have ever written in my whole life took me over two months to finish it this is how productive I am  
> I gave YA romance one last try and was hugely disappointed so I came up with this lmao.  
> The art museums in Hakone are amazing btw.  
> I'm practicing writing asexual characters by applying my own experiences  
> I was struggling with choosing the title but then i listened to this one song by troye sivan and it became clear to me  
> Credits to my lovely sister who stayed up for three nights with me to discuss this AU although she isn't into Free or makoharu  
> In case you thought that there were some parts in the story that was really damn weird (like why the fuck would a college student write a script in the first place or the girl) i actually intend to continue with this series and provide explanatory haha let's see if that happens within a year


End file.
